In Memory
by ThisIsTrueImmortality
Summary: "The voice hasn't gone away since Edward came back. Only now, it's not Edward's voice I hear." In ninety-six hours, everything Bella has dreamed of comes shattering down around her. It's all because of the voice in her head; the voice of a dead man.
1. May 26th, 12:01 am

_**- May 26th, 12:01 am -**_

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><p>The bright lights wheeled sharply around me. I was moving.<p>

There was the sound of the steady _drip-drip-drip _of my blood, dropping in small dots from my hand onto the white floor.

I blinked, feeling blackness pressing in on me.

How did I get here from the road?

Where was my car?

Did they know about the knife?

My dad would find out about me...

"Bella?" The clarion voice broke through the haze. Focusing on the beautiful face above me was like fighting my way through a slab of wet cement.

"Carlisle." I didn't know if he could hear me.

"Operating Room seven is open, Dr. Cullen!"

"We're prepped and ready to go, Carlisle-"

"Bella-"

"Carlisle," I said again, trying to raise my voice. "Carlisle..."

"Bella, what happened to you?" Carlisle's voice was taut. I had only heard him sound like that once before.

In a dark ballet studio...

I had bled, then, too.

More people were talking, their voices bouncing around me. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Dr. Cullen, I think you should leave-"

"Careful with her head, it looks like a concussion-"

"-hand needs-"

"It's a surgical-"

"Carlisle, seriously, we've got this!"

"Bella-"

"Someone get him out of here!"

"What happened to you, Bella?" Carlisle asked me again, as people rushed around us. I felt his cold hand on top of my own, the one that was bleeding. I faded in and out. Carlisle's hand tightened on my knuckles. "Bella, who did this to you?"

I rolled my head to the side. The lights were hurting my eyes...

"Bella," Carlisle said desperately, "please, tell me: who did this?"

I felt the paramedics lift me onto a table. I closed my eyes and turned my hand over, my fingers gripping Carlisle's. "I did..."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Well, this is the beginning of a story that has been circulating in my head for about two years, now. I first dreamed up the idea not too soon after I finished reading the series. Not to build up any anticipation; I don't expect this story to be very long or very deep. But the concept struck me as intriguing...<strong>

**I hope the opening sequence sucked you in like a vampire-well, you know...**

**Song for this (brief) chapter: .com/watch?v=bGF74I57F6A&feature=related [One Simple Idea from the Inception soundtrack] **


	2. Ninetysix Hours Ago

**- **_**Ninety-six Hours Ago **_**- **

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><p>Schizophrenic.<p>

I'd heard the term so many times; in class, from my mom, from jokes. I'd even heard it from Edward a couple of times, in reference to himself. Of course I'd never believed he was crazy, either. But I'd never, in a million years, thought the term could be applied to me.

Until the Cullens left.

More specifically, until my entire world had come crashing down, leaving me, broken myself, to pick up the shattered pieces. After Edward left, taking his family and my future with him, I wasn't at all sure I was mentally sound. I mean, just think of some of the things I tried in order to get what I was searching for: riding motorcycles, jumping off cliffs...anything I could think of that was dangerous.

Dangerous enough to bring Edward back.

Well, not really bring _him_ back, not physically. I knew that was a lost battle. Just his voice, the voice that kept talking to me in my head when I was about to do something stupid. Hearing his voice was sufficient for me, even if it brought pain after it went away. That's why I kept chasing after danger, though- whenever I did something that might injure or possibly kill me, Edward spoke to me. During those long months when he disappeared, when I was certain I'd never see him, my world, again, I was never convinced of my own sanity. How could I be sane, when I wasn't even sure if I wanted to keep on living?

Somehow- no, because of my best friend, Jacob- I survived those months, and it was worth it to keep living. Jake got me past the zombie state I had been in for over four months. It was worth it because it turned out I could save the world. I ended up risking my life to save Edward, something I would do any day, any time, and anywhere. Anywhere, in this case, happened to be Volterra, Italy, home of the unofficial vampire royal family.

Great.

But it _was_ great-long story short, Alice and I stopped Edward from killing himself, the Volturi let us go, and the Cullens all came back to Forks. Every last Cullen, including Edward. I had my world back, and I was possibly more in love with Edward than before. And it looked like things would go back to the way they were before the Cullens left, except for a couple very important changes.

Change one, the most important: Jacob was now my closest friend -and he was horrified that I could welcome the Cullens back, after what he thought they'd done to me. This is my biggest problem, one I haven't yet resolved. It hurts me to hurt Jacob, and it seems that's all I can do lately.

Change two: The Volturi intend to check on me soon, and if I'm still human at that time, they'll make sure I never get the chance to expose the existence of vampires to the public. Becoming a vampire is just fine with me; it's Edward I have to convince. So far, the date for changing me is right after my graduation from high school.

Change three: The voice hasn't gone away since Edward came back. Only now, it's not Edward's voice I hear.

The first time I heard the voice was when I was making dinner for Charlie in the kitchen at our house. I was cutting up potatoes for soup, being extra careful not to slice my hand open; Edward was with me, leaning casually against the counter. We'd been together all day, during class, in the afternoon, and now, at about five. It never ceases to amaze me how Edward is just content to watch me do perfectly normal, boring human tasks. He'd been watching me prepare the potatoes for over thirty minutes without stop.

"Are you sure I can't help you cut those?" he asked for the third time.

"I've got it, Edward," I sighed. "I'm not completely lacking in hand-eye coordination." Just then the knife slipped on a particularly hard patch of potato skin. I got my fingers out of the way fast enough, but not without dropping the knife on the floor. Well, it would have dropped on the floor, if Edward's quick white fingers had been slower. But Edward's reflexes are ridiculously fast, so he laid the knife on the counter about two seconds after catching it.

"I rest my case," he said, smiling crookedly at me.

I rolled my eyes, trying to act nonchalant. "The knife slipped. It wasn't my poor coordination."

"Mmmm. I'll slice them."

"Edward, you're being absurd."

He shrugged, and picked up the knife.

"No, I'll do it." I held my hand out, giving him a stubborn look.

Reluctantly, he handed it over. "It will be a shame if I have to take you to Carlisle in the emergency room."

"You'd get blood all over you car," I muttered, taking up the tough potato.

"You know I could care less about that, if you were hurt. I'm just pointing out how humiliating that would be for you."

"I think I can handle a couple potatoes."

"It's not the potatoes I'm worried about." Edward rested his head on the cabinets above us, standing close to me, disrupting my thought patterns.

I was ready with my defense. "Do you realize how many dinners I've made in my-"

_Bella. _

A voice.

A voice in my head.

And a voice I recognized: that pleasant, generic voice, the one that had very nearly wrecked my world the first time around.

_I see you're still alive. I must say, I'm surprised. _

I started in terror. My hand missed the potato, and the knife stabbed into my other hand, drawing a spurt of red blood that splattered onto the counter in a gruesome drizzle. Gasping in pain, I stared in fear at the knife in my hand, feeling my stomach churn. The blood brought me back to those awful memories I'd suppressed for so long. That voice. How could I forget it?

"Bella!" Edward's voice brought me back to the present.

"Ow," I whispered.

"Bella, you're all right, don't worry. I'll take you to Carlisle." Edward gently took my good hand and drew me close to him, keeping my bleeding hand safely cradled to my chest. "No, don't pull it out," he said, when I took my hand out of his and reached toward the knife. "Never take a knife out of a wound."

"But, Edward-" I felt tears gather in my eyes as the pain increased, but I was more worried about the voice that had come out of nowhere.

He hurried us to his car, opened the door for me, dashed to the driver's side, flung himself inside and started the engine to life. In one move he changed gears and backed out of the driveway, then laid on the accelerator. "Don't speed through town," I mumbled, looking everywhere but at my bleeding hand.

"I'll have you at the hospital in five minutes," he promised, taking his phone out of his pocket and pressing a sequence of numbers. "Esme? Tell the others we won't be home tonight. Bella needs to see Carlisle. Yes," he glanced at me, "it's pretty serious. But don't worry, I'll get her there safely. I know. No, I'm fine." I could tell he wasn't fine, but maybe Esme couldn't over the phone. "No, Esme, you don't have to-Bella's going to be fine. I'll see you soon." He hung up and put on more speed.

"Edward, I'm okay." My voice was shaking, and sweat broke out all over me. My good hand was slick with blood from holding the wounded hand.

"You're all right, Bella. We'll make it to the ER in no time."

"ER? I don't-" I cut off, wincing and doing my best not to inhale the smell of blood.

"Here." He leaned over, keeping one hand on the wheel. Tearing off a sleeve of his jacket, he staunched some of the blood staining my shirt and arms. I felt sick when I risked a glance over and saw the knife still in my hand.

"Edward, hurry," I said, rolling down my window with my good hand and sucking in fresh air.

"Do you feel faint?" He asked worriedly.

"No, no...yes." I squeezed my eyes shut and held in a groan. My hand was throbbing, burning. "I-I-think I'm going to pass out..." I gasped.

"Just breathe, Bella!"

"That makes it worse!" I stared at the roof of the car, taking mincing breaths.

"Put your face near the air conditioner," Edward suggested, swerving into traffic and changing lanes too fast for me to register.

I followed his advice, gingerly putting my hands to the side so I could lean down toward the vents. My head was spinning; I inhaled deep gusts of air conditioned oxygen, praying I didn't vomit and faint at the same time. "Oh," I sighed, "that's better."

"We're almost there, don't worry," said Edward, although he sounded as worried as me. "I shouldn't have distracted you, I'm sorry-"

"It wasn't your fault, Edward," I said, and my skin went cold at the thought of that voice I'd heard in my head. Was I going crazy? Wasn't it impossible for a dead man's voice to speak inside me? As I regained control of my stomach and stayed hunched over the air vent, a more pressing question popped into my mind:

What was my would-be killer doing in my head?

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><p><strong>AN: Well, now you know. The moment of truth! :D I have about two chapters pre-written, but I have the direction of the story firm in my mind.<strong>

**In regards to updates: I have two more weeks of school left, and then I'll have more of a chance to update. I plan on just hammering this thing out in a few weeks; like I said, it's not going to be very long (it's NOT; I must remind myself that I have sworn this). Thanks to those who have already added In Memory to their Alert lists! It brings a tear of joy to my eye...**

**Thanks!**


	3. Ninetyfour Hours Ago

_**- Ninety Hours Ago -**_

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><p>"Well, Bella," said Emmett, reclining on one of the plastic-covered chairs in the waiting room, "if you're looking for a new scene to join, I don't think cutter's the right one for you."<p>

"Gee, thanks, Emmett," I said, glaring at him. I had just been released from the ER and was waiting for Edward and Charlie to come back from talking to Carlisle.

"I don't think you'll be able to pull off emo well, either," Emmett said, grinning.

"I'll be sure and consult you if I decide to stop being as abnormal as I am and switch to something a little more standard for a teenager."

Although I pretended to be annoyed at Emmett, I was rather touched by the fact that he had come to wait with Edward, Alice, Esme, and Charlie while Carlisle performed some pretty serious surgery on my hand. It turned out the knife had made a clean cut right through my hand. Carlisle had said I was lucky the blade hadn't severed a tendon.

The situation would have been comical, if I hadn't have been in too much pain to notice. As Edward had carried me, on the point of unconsciousness, into the emergency room, Carlisle had taken one look at my hand and had said to a nearby nurse, "We're going to need some anesthetics. Edward, go wait in the lobby, please." The two of them had transferred me from Edward's arms to Carlisle's, and then I had promptly fainted. Hours later, I had woken in a hospital bed with Carlisle on one side and Charlie on the other, both looking like anxious fathers.

Now I had walked into the waiting room where Emmett, Alice, and Esme sat, looking very out of place in their polished designer clothes. Esme hugged me. "Are you feeling better, dear?"

"Yes, thank you," I answered. I wasn't actually sure if I did feel one hundred percent better-the voice was still haunting me-but I put on a brave face for Esme. "You guys didn't have to come wait for me."

"We _know_ we didn't have to, Bella," said Alice, hugging me much more gently than usual.

"We had nothing better to do, really," said Emmett, but then he stood and scooped me into a hug. "You okay, little sister?"

"Yeah, Carlisle sewed me up." I smiled. Emmett had called me his sister; that almost drove the fear from the voice's appearance right out of me.

"Here, sit," ordered Alice, pointing to the seat next to her. "I can tell you're still weak." I sank into the chair with a little sigh of exhaustion. Anesthetics are the devil when you're only five foot four.

"Um, Alice? We're talking about little human Bella, here."

"Hey, I haven't seen you take a knife to the hand and live to tell the tale, Mr. Big and Bad." I enjoyed the playful banter that passed between Emmett and me.

Emmett growled. "What? I eat grizzly bears for breakfast. I think I could take a potato peeler."

"Uh-huh."

"You just wait, kid. Someday, when you aren't as breakable-"

"Hush," said Esme, looking nervously around the waiting room. "Let Bella rest."

"Oh, Esme, no one's paying attention," said Emmett, but he sank back against his chair without further Bella-bashing. We both rolled our eyes at each other. "Mothers."

Esme whacked Emmett lightly on the shoulder and he winced theatrically. "Behave yourself, or I'll have to take you outside."

"You notice I'm the only one Esme threatens," Emmett said to me, scowling.

"You're the only one who needs to be threatened, dear," answered Esme, with a mock scowl of her own.

Alice and I laughed, then scooted a little closer to each other in our chairs. "Bella," Alice said in an undertone, "I've seen your accident, but I'm a little confused about it."

I looked up warily, unsure of what to say. Did Alice know anything about the voice? With her wide amber eyes fixed on me, Alice waited for me to respond. "Um...well, I don't really know what happened, either."

Alice made a face. "Bella, you're holding out on me."

Darn. I'd forgotten how good vampires were at reading my facial expressions. "Okay, so maybe I am. But-" I paused for a second, thinking. "I'm not ready to tell you what happened."

Quietly, Alice gasped. "It wasn't Edward, was it?"

"No, no!" I was quick to whisper, casting a glance at the other two Cullens sitting by us. "Geez, Alice, why would you jump to that conclusion?"

"Oh, I don't know," Alice said sarcastically, "maybe because we know he has a bit of an issue with that little problem of_ your blood_?"

"He's so much better now! He hasn't had a problem for months. And at any rate, this accident wasn't his fault." I shivered. It was definitely not Edward's fault, but it had everything to do with what my adopted family had recently done to save me.

"Bella, what is it?" Alice took me by my arm, concern on her face. "What happened?"

"I don't know."

"Don't give me that! What happened?"

"Seriously, I don't know!"

"Hey, girlies," Emmett said, noticing our squabble for the first time, "settle down, all right? One of you is supposed to be an invalid, remember?"

"Whatever, Emmett!" I said, sitting back in my chair.

With a cute little frown, Alice released my arm and crossed her legs, tapping the end table next to her chair with her white fingers. "I'll be watching you, Bella," she muttered at me, raising her eyebrows threateningly. "So don't try and hide anything from-"

"Bella!" Charlie rounded a corner and scurried toward me, Edward hot on his heels. "Bella, what am I going to do with you?" asked my dad, his expression caught between relief and worry. "Are you all right, now?"

"Yes, Dad, I'm fine," I said, stretching out my arms to catch him in a brief hug. "It was just a small accident. I'm going to be okay."

"Small accidents don't require stitches," Charlie pointed out.

I ignored him and turned my eyes to Edward, who was now standing by my chair with an expression to mirror Charlie's. "Hello."

"Hello, yourself," said Edward, smiling faintly at me through his worry. He bent to kiss me anxiously, his lips soft against my cheek. "Are you really all right?" he asked me, his face close to mine.

"Yes," I answered, inhaling the wonderful smell of his breath.

"That was a lot of blood pouring all over my car seats," joked Edward, taking my hand in his and pulling up a chair for himself. I heard Charlie take the seat next to Esme. "I suppose I'll have to go in and clean the whole interior now with industrial-strength carpet cleaner."

"I'll do it, Edward," I said apologetically. I felt bad for those minutes in the car where I'd trapped my vampire boyfriend in with the unbearable draw of my blood.

"No, you won't," he said, rolling his eyes. "Actually, I'll probably just ban everyone else from my car from now on. I'm sure that will work to keep us all sane."

I joined in on his joke. "Yeah, what are you going to do, make them all walk when they can't drive the M3?"

"It wouldn't hurt them," Edward said, throwing a subtle punch in Emmett's direction.

"Oh, what?" Emmett dodged the punch in human speed with an effort. "Just because Bella wasn't smart enough to hold the knife the other way, we have to walk to school?"

I laughed, covering my sudden worry at Emmett's words. _Just because Bella wasn't smart enough..._

Emmett had just been joking, but I knew what he'd said was true. I was really stupid about so many things.

I had been stupid about the things I did when Edward had left me. I had jumped off cliffs for the adrenaline rush without thinking of the water below me, I had infuriated young werewolves without knowing it, and I had met with a vampire in our meadow without any fear that he was actually there to kill me. How could one person be so prone to idiotic mistakes?

And now, the one time where the accident wasn't my fault, my brain decided to play tricks on me and make me believe I heard the voice of the man who had hunted me like prey. Hadn't Edward's voice been enough? Back then, when I'd heard him speaking to me, I had known my mind had created an illusion to succor my heart. But why, then, was I hearing James's voice inside my head? All that brought me was fear.

_What if_, I thought, my body chilled, _what if these voices aren't my imagination? _But what were they, if not my creation? That thought unnerved me more than the idea that I'd just made up the voices in my head.

_James is dead_, I told myself. _He's dead, dead, dead-_

"Bella?" Alice's hand flashed in front of my face repeatedly. "Hello, Bella? Where are you?"

"Oh, sorry," I said, yanking myself back to reality. "It's the meds, I can't concentrate. What did you say?"

"I said, do you still want to come over tomorrow? I know you're probably not feeling too well, so if you want to cancel, I'll understand." Alice's eyes were concerned as she looked at me, no doubt over the fact that I had just zoned out as badly as she did during her visions.

I scrambled to remember what plans she and I had made for tomorrow afternoon. Something about a girl's night out? Oh, that was right. Shopping. "Um, you know, Alice, I think I'd prefer it if we could hang out at my house. I really don't feel like shopping right now." I hoped she would take the hint and keep all the makeup and hair products under the cabinet, where they belonged.

"Okay," Alice said, drooping slightly. "I guess we can work on that history project you need to finish." She said this with a glum twist of her lips.

I smiled. "That sounds good." When Alice said 'we can work,' she meant Jasper and I would do the research while she sat by and made comments on the fashions of whatever century we were looking up. That was Alice's idea of a grueling homework session.

"And Edward can help Emmett with his economics work," Esme said, giving Emmett another look. Emmett grinned back and Edward sighed.

"You all sound like you've got your studying under control," said Charlie approvingly. "The Cullens can stay over tomorrow as long as they want, Bella."

"Thanks, Dad. I'll be sure and make supper before I-"

"Oh, no, you won't," exclaimed Charlie and Alice at the same time. "Bella, you can't expect us to let you cook a meal with that aperture in your hand," Alice scolded me hotly. "I'll bring over some supper for Charlie before we settle down for the night. I hope you like French cuisine, Charlie," she said, smiling sweetly. "That's all I know how to cook." Charlie looked flabbergasted.

"Alice, don't be silly-" I began, mumbling, but she cut me off again.

"No, _you_ don't be silly, Bella. What kind of friend would I be if I let you handle knives again the day after you had an accident cooking? It's an abominably unwise thing to do! I'm cooking for you and that's that."

She glared fiercely at me, waiting for me to argue. I didn't. I was smart enough to know when a vampire was serious. "Fine, Alice. If it makes you happy."

"It does," Alice said. "Now, I'll just call Jasper and make sure he knows the plan..."

My best friend's voice faded into the background as I stared at the group of people clustered near the entrance to the hospital. There were three of them, two men and one woman, grouped in a rough circle and speaking in secretive whispers. The woman did most of the talking, but she was forgettable. My eyes slid right over her. The man on her left was young and good-looking, but his profile held little appeal to someone accustomed to seeing the face of an angel at their bedside every night.

It was the man to the right of the woman, the third man whose attention seemed to be diverted, that caught my eye. As he turned toward me, I fought to keep the gasp from tearing out of my lungs.

It was James. James, with that calm, friendly smile, and that bland but immortal face that had inspired the deepest sort of terror within me. Slowly, the nomad vampire stalked towards us, and I wanted to scream out a warning to Charlie, whose back was to the approaching danger. But just as I opened my mouth, the danger passed: as James lunged toward my father, he disappeared into thin air.

"Bella?"

I looked around wildly to see Edward, Alice, Esme, and Emmett all staring at me. Emmett nodded at my hands, which were clenched around the arms of my chair. "Easy there, tiger. You'll pull your stitches right out." When I didn't respond, my vampire brother-to-be gave me a concerned look. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, too quickly, feeling my heartbeat stutter. I knew the Cullens could feel each irregularity, but I pushed down the apprehension and leaned back, relaxing my body. "Yes, I'm fine."

And everything _was_ fine, because that couldn't have been James. James was dead.

Because even vampires-when burned to nothing but dismembered ashes-_stay_ dead.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: So, if I haven't made it apparent enough, it is now clear that James is the voice haunting Bella's mind. Some readers have already come up with some pretty good theories about why James is stalking Bella's brain cells-amazingly quick theorists we've got, here-but the true reason shall be revealed in good time!<strong>

**I would also like some feedback on the format of the story; whether or not I should change, whether or not it's too choppy, etc. **

**Thanks! :) Hope you enjoyed it!**


	4. May 26th, 2:05 am

**AN: Yay, another story! I didn't realize I had only written three chapters on this story, so I'm trying to catch up before I go back to classes. **

**I have a quick note about Carlisle in this chapter: I don't think he's OOC. I always paint him a little sharper and darker than our dear Stephenie does, but I think my Carlisle remains in canon. I would like to know what you think!**

**Also, while I have a captive audience, I'm going to post the first three songs that helped me develop this story. Obviously, these are supplemental, but nice.**

**Leave My Body - Florence and the Machine .com/watch?v=xKNh_Tva2X0 (nice, considering there's a FaTM song in Eclipse)**

**Disturbia - by Rihanna [clean edit] .com/watch?v=Z2Seuio-RIk (clean edits only on my stories, I promise!)**

**Lose Yourself - The String Quartet Tribute to Eminem .com/watch?v=Zp4611K9faA (I hate Eminem, but I love this cover)**

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><p><strong>Enjoy, if you can...<strong>

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><p>- <em><strong>May 26th, 2:05 am -<strong>_

_Bella._

I stirred, my brain fogged up by anesthetics.

_Bella_, the voice said again, in a sing-song tone, _wake up, Bella_.

I opened my eyes, slowly.

I was in a low-lit room, lying in a stiff bed. The plastic mattress made creaking noises as I shifted, inhaling the flat smell of the bleached sheets and the tangy smell of a fruit-scented de-odorizer right next to my face. Aside from the spartan bed, there was only one other piece of furniture in the room, a vinyl chair that looked like it had reached its peak in the sixties.

The man in the chair lifted his face, and I nearly strangled myself on a sharp gasp. Then I breathed a sigh of relief. "...Carlisle?"

My voice was all wrong, sluggish and slow, but from the smile on the eldest Cullen's face, you would have thought I had burst into an aria. "Bella," Carlisle breathed, and in a flash he was right beside me. I blinked. "Bella, how are you feeling?"

"I've...been better..." I saw no point in lying, not when Carlisle had seen me after the car crash.

"Oh, Bella," Carlisle sighed, taking my hand. "Why did you do this?"

Some of the drugs had worn off, and I could now get a good look at his face. Carlisle looked terrible; his clothes were wrinkled and there were deep shadows below his eyes. And his eyes themselves had a haunted look about them, like he'd seen his own life, not mine, flash before them.

I knew he must have stayed at the hospital all night, waiting beside me, maybe even helping to keep me stabilized. He had seen the hideous gouges in my arms, my face. He'd smelled the blood from the myriad small cuts from my shattered windshield. He had traveled with me to the operating theater. He had been as faithful as my true father would have been.

And, even though I knew all this, I couldn't even be bothered to thank him. All I could say was: "Have you told Edward?"

My whisper lingered in the air, sounding twice as small and ridiculous once it was out in the open. Carlisle sighed, patting my hand. "No."

Even through my drugged mind, I was ashamed of myself. Because then, and only then, did I say, "Thank you."

Carlisle did not smile, but he didn't show disapproval, either. I wondered if he was at his emotional limit for the day. He had been so frantic when the paramedics had rushed me into the emergency room, he might have worn himself out. He spoke again. "I haven't told your father, either."

I frowned; Charlie was bound to know I wasn't home, and he would wonder why. "Why?"

"To be honest, Bella, I didn't know how to explain your condition," Carlisle said, giving me a rather piercing look. "How could I, in any kind terms, tell Charlie what you tried to do tonight?"

"You couldn't," I whispered, shrinking back into my mattress. "But, I swear, I'm okay."

"Bella," Carlisle said, "you are _not _okay." He lifted my hand, which was taped to an IV. "I don't think I need to tell you how many stiches you received tonight for you to know that you almost died from blood loss. You're going to have to be hospitalized until we're sure your plasma and electrolytes are replenished."

"I just wanted it to stop! I couldn't take him anymore!" I tried to make him understand my problem. I knew, if I could just explain it to Carlisle, I could have him make sure everyone else knew I had not attempted suicide.

Carlisle shook his head. "Who?"

I bit my lip, looking away. How could I make this sound like I wasn't crazy? Because I wasn't crazy-I wasn't, and someone had to understand that. Carlisle could and would listen to me. He was one of the best listeners I knew. "I-I don't know how to say this-but, every so often, I hear-"

_You hear _me_, Bella?_

My body went rigid. Carlisle could feel it immediately as my hand clenched around his. "Bella? Bella, what's wrong?"

_But, you can't hear me, Bella, _James whispered inside me. _Because I'm dead, aren't I? I'm dead to everyone but you._

I started screaming.

_Poor Bella, all alone and out of her mind. It's quite sad, really. _

"Bella!" I didn't notice I had been clawing at my face until Carlisle pinned my other arm down. Without releasing me, he took out a syringe and stuck it into the bag hanging on a hook to my right. I fought against Carlisle's arm, desperate to clear that voice out of my head before it drove me insane. My fingernails broke against his marble skin. "Let me go! Let me go! I have to get it out! Let me go!"

"Doctor Cullen, do you need help?" A nurse appeared, her face shocked as she took in my wild thrashing.

"No, Deborah, I just gave her another dose of Lorazepam."

"Well, let me know..."

The nurse's voice faded into the background noise of my dreams.


	5. Eightyeight Hours Ago

_**-Eighty-eight Hours ago-**_

"Edward, I'm fine," I reasserted, for what felt like the millionth time.

Edward pursed his lips. "You always say that."

"Mmm." I turned on my side, burrowing into my coverlet with a sleepy yawn.

"Bella, you've been acting strangely all day. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, except you disturbing my slumber. I know you don't have to sleep, but this is getting a little annoying."

"Bella," Edward said darkly, turning me to face him, "are you hiding something from me?" With his amber eyes so sharp on my face, he reminded me of Alice.

I tried not to let the feel of his breath on my face or his ice-cold hand on my side distract me; I had to assuage his doubts. "I'm just acting weird because of the medicine, Edward, trust me." I put a hand to his face, inwardly cringing at my lies. "Have I ever hidden anything important from you?"

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Edward's eyes lit up in a way that I knew, from painful experience, spelled out certain doom for my argument skills. "James," he said immediately, and I had to command my entire body to remain relaxed on the bedspread. Edward had unintentionally struck the most sensitive nerve in my being. "Phoenix, the ballet studio, rushing off to meet your untimely end-"

"All of which count as one thing," I pointed out, swallowing.

"A pretty _big_ thing, Bella."

"I told you all about Jacob, though, and I certainly didn't have to!"

"We would have found out, eventually," Edward said, with his trademark crooked smile. "And then where would you have been?"

"In trouble," I said, inwardly relieved that I had re-directed the conversation to a less disconcerting-if not more controversial-topic. "Okay," I yawned again and checked the clock, "since you're not going to let me sleep any more, I'm going to take a shower."

"Fine." Casually, Edward leaned back against my headboard as I rolled out of bed, crossing his ankles and putting his arms behind his head. "I guess I can allow you a human moment, invalid that you are."

"Oh, haha." I fished a new pair of jeans and a t-shirt out of my drawer, then carefully extracted my underwear and bra so Edward wouldn't see. Even though he had seen me in the most ratty pair of pajamas I owned, I still blushed a little every time I retrieved my undergarments in his presence. I guess I didn't want to seem like I was flashing them around in an attempt to seduce him. Seduction was unlikely, anyway, with plain white panties and a nude-colored bra; I was no Victoria's Secret addict, that was for sure.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," I said, turning back to face him.

"I'll be here," Edward said, with another winning smile. And, although I knew he wasn't going anywhere after our agonizing separation, it was still a reassuring phrase.

As the water from the shower poured over me, I inhaled steam and did my best to forget everything that had happened in the last eight hours, most specifically what had caused me to cut myself while peeling potatoes. I still held my hand outside the shower to avoid dampening the stitches, but I pretended that I had fallen and scraped my knuckles and the water was too hot for my raw skin. I hummed a little to myself as I lathered my body with soap, awash in the smell of freesia shower gel and strawberry shampoo. I even pushed Edward out of my mind, even though his presence was like a beacon, calling me to my room. There was only so long I could ignore that pull, but just for a miute, it helped make the illusion real.

I was safe, in my imaginary scenario. Last night, I had made potato soup, and Charlie and I had sat down together and eaten every spoonful. Edward had come over later to help me with homework. We had laid down on my bed and fallen asleep, content to be together, without any worries. It had been a wonderful evening.

And, most of all, I had not heard a dead man speak to me inside my head.

Once my hair was clean, I turned off the shower and grabbed my towel, stepping out onto the bathroom rug. I dried myself off, feeling peaceful about the day ahead of me. It was just another school day. Nothing exciting was going to happen, and in my world, that was a good thing. In the Forks that I knew, excitement equaled disaster.

I gave my hair a final rub and wrapped the towel around my body. I frowned when I fingered the tangles in my brunette locks; my hair was only this knotted when I slept badly. I must have had a bad dream. I studiously ignored this new fact, because it didn't agree with my pretend night. I hadn't had nightmares, because Edward had held me in his arms and sung me my lullaby. With that picture in my mind, I smiled and picked up my comb.

All my happy thoughts were shattered when I stepped in front of the mirror.

I dropped the comb and put a hand to my mouth, cutting off my scream as the shadow loomed over me. I caught a glimpse of blood-red eyes and a genteel smile before I whirled around, looking for the man in the mirror. There was nothing to see except the bland wall of Charlie's bathroom, obscured by clouds of steam. I slumped against the counter, relieved, but it was a short-lived emotion. As I put a hand to my head, I could see three faint, silvery lines traveling up my forearm. I rotated my wrist, and the line followed the movement. It almost looked like someone had taken a silver marker and scribbled along my arm, starting with the circular, tooth-mark scar on the curve of my wrist. I leaned back, repulsed.

What was wrong with me?

"Bella?" Charlie's voice reached my through the door. "Are you in there?"

"Yeah, Dad," I said, my voice strangled. I coughed and tried again. "Yeah!"

"Okay. Um, are you all right? I thought I heard you fall."

"No, I'm fine!" I felt a little guilty about the lie; I wasn't fine. "I'm almost done-I'll be out in a second."

"Okay, Bells. Take your time."

I didn't answer, running a hand through my hair. I realized that I was holding back tears. Without knowing what I was doing, I opened the drawer to my right and hunted with my fingers until I felt a smooth, rubber handle. I pulled out the object and stared at it, wondering what I had planned to do with it.

It was Charlie's razor. I touched one of the blades, pressing too lightly to cut myself. Then, feeling sick, I threw it back into the drawer and slammed it shut.

I didn't know what was wrong with me, but I couldn't let my fear take control. The vampire I had seen in the mirror had just been a trick of the light and steam. I had had a nightmare about James last night, and that's why he had jumped up behind me after my shower. I was just psyching myself out.

When I got back from my human moment, Edward opened his arms to me, and I didn't hesitate to fall into his embrace. He kissed me, breathing in the smell of my newly-washed hair. I clung to him like I had been gone for a month, suddenly desperate to feel the protection that could only be found inside his unbreakable arms. Edward could sense my neediness, and I could tell it worried him. "Bella," he whispered, with another kiss. "Tell me what's wrong, please."

"Nothing's wrong," I answered, molding myself tighter to him. "I just...had a bad dream."

I didn't tell him that the dream hadn't ended when I woke up.


	6. May 26th, 3:00 am

**AN: EDIT- 7/28/12 I just made a slight edit ( a very, very slight edit) to let he story coincide with the Eclise canon. I changed only one sentence. Yes, I am a perfectionist.**

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><p><strong>ORIGINIAL <strong>**AN: I would like to make a small announcement about the format of the story. ****You may have noticed that the date on the 'present day' chapters has been changed from May 25th to May 26th. This was an adjustment I just made today based on a quick look at the Twilight Lexicon's timeline. It was a strange coincidence, but May 25th is actually on that timeline, and a significant plot point in Eclipse develops on that day. Because of this discovery, I have gained a new plot direction for my own story, and have compensated by changing the date to May 26th. I hope that's not confusing.**

**Enjoy! **

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><p><em><strong>-May 26th, 3:00 am-<strong>_

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><p>"Jacob Black?"<p>

The name rang through the sedative, pulling me back toward consciousness. My heart, despite the drugs, gave a little jump in my chest. I tried to move, to open my mouth and call Jacob to my bedside, but I was powerless. Whatever Carlisle had given me, it was up to the job of keeping me silent.

"What are you doing here?" That was Carlisle's voice, far enough away that it echoed around my hospital room.

"What happened? What's wrong with her?"

Was that really Jacob? It sounded like him. I strained to open my eyes, but I might have had better luck trying to levitate myself off the bed.

"She's sleeping, now, and she needs rest. She has had a traumatic night." There was no mistaking the suspicious tone in Carlisle's voice. With a sinking feeling, memories of the night before crashed into me: going to Jacob's house, hopig to drive off the waking nightmare, laughing together. Then, the news about Victoria-

And having the voice, that horrible voice, resurface while Jacob held me in his arms. After that, the memories hurt too much to remember. My fingers spasmed, the only movement I could dredge up to express my discomfort.

Jacob spoke again, angrily. "Oh, what, you think this is my fault? You think _I _did this to her? Don't make me laugh."

"Jacob-"

"Because I didn't," Jacob said, cutting Carlisle off. "I'm good for her!"

"That might be true, or it might not. Frankly, I am less worried about what happened between the two of you and more concerned with what is still happening to Bella."

"What do you mean?"

Even from my position, I could hear Carlisle's exhausted sigh. "I...will have to exam her more thoroughly before I can give you an answer."

"If you think you can just blow me off-" Jacob started furiously, but Carlisle interrupted him.

"I'm not blowing you off, Jacob. I just don't know. But, if there is anything you can tell me that might help her, now would be the time to mention it."

Silence fell over all three of us. I wanted to shake my head and tell Carlisle that Jacob didn't know anything. How could he know what was wrong? He wasn't inside my head; he had never even seen James. He knew about Victoria, because of her reappearance in Forks, but she was a far cry from her mate. James had been a hunter who lived for the chase, and Victoria was a survivor who lived for James. I mused over the differences between me and the flame-haired vampire who was hell-bent on my demise. Surprisingly, there were a few similarities between us: we both loved our soulmates to the point of obsession. And, if someone ever did take Edward away from me, I knew that I would react like Victoria: with vengeance.

Finally, Jacob broke the silence that had fallen in my room. "I told her about the redheaded female my pack spotted over the weekend. I knew _he_ would never tell her, so I thought I should." I internally cringed at the way Jacob mentioned Edward. He sounded like he hated him, which he probably did. "I didn't know Bella would flip out-or I wouldn't have-I guess I might have..." He struggled to find the right thing to say, then gave up. "Anyway, she just went insane. I-even when she was so torn up about him leaving, she never acted like that."

"Like what?" Carlisle asked, sounding much more attentive than before.

"Like she was on drugs, or something," Jacob said, and I could hear the shudder in his voice. "She screamed a lot. She was saying stuff like, 'Leave me alone,' and, 'You're _dead_!' She kept saying that one, over and over."

"You're dead?" Carlisle repeated.

"Yeah, 'You're dead.' It was weird, but I knew she wasn't talking to me. I didn't know what was wrong with her. Then, she ran off..." Jacob stopped talking rather abruptly, taking a deep breath. "I tried to go after her-I _knew_ she wasn't okay. And, now, look at her." He took another steadying breath. "This is all my fault, isn't it?"

If I could have made my throat voice my thoughts, I would have screamed out loud to Jacob that, no, it wasn't his fault. But Carlisle spoke for me. "I don't think so, Jacob," he said thoughtfully, and there was a rustle of clothing as he came back to stand beside me. I twinged slightly when I felt one of his icy hands on my wrist, taking my pulse. "Bella, can you hear me?"

I managed to nod, if barely. "Is she awake?" Jacob asked.

"She's conscious," Carlisle said. He lifted my hand, and as my eyes slowly opened, I could see that he was holding my wrist closer to his face. "What is that?" Carlisle muttered, so quietly I knew Jacob would never hear him. Bathed in the light of a fluoresent bulb, my arm seemed to be covered with alternating streaks of red and silver. As Carlisle slid back the sleeve of my hospital gown, I could see that the shining silver rivulets had spread to a point above my elbow.

"'You're dead..."' Carlisle said softly, a look of realization gradually dawning on his face. "'You're dead...'"

"What's wrong?" Jacob was standing in the doorway to my room, filling the entrance with his bulk. When Carlisle didn't answer him, his fists clenched on his crossed arms.

Carlisle pulled another syringe from his pocket, but this one was empty. "This is going to hurt a little, Bella, but the Lorazepam should still be enough to dull the pain." And he plunged the tip of the syringe into my arm. My body went rigid, reacting to pain I didn't even feel.

I watched, wide-eyed, as Carlisle bent over my arm, fierce concentration dominating his angelic features. One hand held my wrist firmly, keeping my arm straight, while the other slowly drew fluid into the syringe. With a flip in my stomach, I realized that the deep red liquid rising through the glass of the syringe was my own blood. In another moment, Carlisle had removed the needle from my arm and sealed the puncture shut with a square bandage. When I looked back at the syringe, I noticed that he had really drawn a very small amount of my blood.

Carlisle held the syringe to the light, then, to Jacob's obvious disgust, he dropped a single bead onto his finger and tasted it. I stared; I had never imagined that Carlisle could use blood as a diagnostic, but it made sense. Nevertheless, it was disturbing to see the paragon of vampire restraint taste human blood. As soon as the blood passed his lips, Carlisle's face lost what little color it had. "Jacob," he said, and the utter seriousness of his voice caught both of our attentions immediately. "Would you do something for me?"

"That depends," Jacob said, looking as unnerved as I felt. "What is it?"

"Would you call Rosalie?"


	7. Seventynine Hours Ago

**Author's Note: Classes have started for this semester! This is the second week of that sweet torture we call school! :) I love it, but it really cuts into my free time. **

**Ah, another chapter! Hope you guys are still interested. I have to say: this is the first story that has garnered fifteen reviews in so few chapters. In honor of that interest, I'm going to try and finish 'In Memory' soon. I might have said this before, but I plan on rounding this story up to about fifteen to seventeen chapters. Although, I might make thirteen or fourteen. **

**Because I love Jasper and he takes a larger part in this chapter, I'm going to post a very Jasper-like song:**

**Better than I Used to Be by Tim McGraw ** .com/watch?v=Wj-ARXRhzhQ&list=PL384BBDBCF7119BA5&index=17&feature=plpp_video

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><p><em><strong>-Seventy-nine Hours Ago-<strong>_

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><p>"When was the First Battle of Bull Run, again?"<p>

"You mean, First Manassas?" Jasper corrected me, with a grin he only pulled out during history homework.

I rolled my eyes, but only a little; I could understand why a vampire Jasper's age would remember such details. "Yes, that."

"July twenty-first, eighteen sixty-one. In which state was it located?" Jasper never gave me all the information; he insisted that I learn some of the stuff for myself, despite the fact that I had never shown any interest in history.

"Um, Virginia," I said, discreetly flipping through my textbook while munching on my apple.

"Bella, that's cheating," Alice laughed, slapping the book closed. "History is an important subject, and when you have someone who _lived_ during the Civil War sitting in your living room, you should really utilize that opportunity."

"Shh," I hissed, glancing back toward the kitchen, where Charlie was cleaning his gun. "Shut up, Alice." Alice only laughed some more.

"It always makes me feel better to study history and know that at least someone is older than me," Edward said, with a smirk at Jasper.

"I should say I act older than you, too," Jasper said.

"Not that much older."

"Well, I'm not _that_ much older than you."

"They always have this argument," sighed Alice dramatically, draping herself over the couch like a wilting flower. I felt a little envious at how attractive she looked, even lying on a dumpy piece of furniture. "You'd think they would get tired of it after hashing this out fifty thousand times, but no..."

"I'll remember you said that, the next time you and Rosalie start picking apart each other's sports cars," Jasper said sardonically.

"Can we please just finish this assignment?" I asked, laying my head on my mountainous textbook. I had finished my apple, but my stomach was rumbling. It was time for dinner.

"Sure thing, Bella," Alice said primly, sitting up and rearranging her notes all in one movement. After a moment of silence where we all stared at her, assuming she would lead the conversation, she gave an imperious wave. "Well, what are you looking at me for? Carry on, Jasper, my love."

Jasper half-laughed, then turned serious again. I fidgeted when he turned his eyes on me. "Which army gained victory at this battle, Bella?"

"The Confederacy," I answered immediately.

"You're darn right, they did," Jasper said, smiling. "Good job."

"You rebel," teased Alice.

Jasper ostensibly ignored her, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Why did the Confederacy win?"

Having listened to Jasper's explanation about the incompetency of the Union general, I listed a couple reasons, including General McDowell's bad planning and how the general after him didn't learn from his mistakes. Jasper seemed satisfied with my answer and moved on to the second portion of the question. "Why was Manassas a significant battle?"

"Because..." I thought for a moment, tapping the end of my pencil against my cheek. "Because..." I knew it had something to do with capturing the Confederate capitol, but we had been studying for over an hour; my brain had pawed through fifty other questions and couldn't pull up the right answer. "The Union wanted a decisive victory against the Confederates..." I began, and stopped dead.

I had been tapping my pencil against my wrist. As I looked closely at my skin, I could see those silver lines again, peeking through the long-sleeved shirt I had donned to hide the marks. The silver looked wider to me, like it had spread farther across my skin. The red lines, running beside the silver, had spidered out, criss-crossing in some places. I swallowed.

"Bella?" Jasper's voice startled me so much that I gasped, my pencil jumping out of my hand. Jasper caught it before it rolled off the table and laid it on my textbook.

"Bella, what's wrong?" asked Alice, straightening up from her disinterested slump.

"Nothing," I lied automatically. Jasper raised an eyebrow. I mentally cursed his empathic ability and smiled. "I'm just tired. I can't study history this long, or I go a little nuts."

"We can take a break, then," Edward said, pushing his chair back. "You're probably hungry, aren't you?"

"Well..." My stomach growled.

Edward grinned. "That's what I thought."

I stood and went to the fridge, pulling out the leftover crepes from breakfast. True to her word, Alice had cooked for me and Charlie to spare my injured hand and, even more true to her word, she had cooked French cuisine. Crepes for breakfast, a Roquefort sandwich for lunch, and leftovers for dinner. She had even brought Charlie some vintage red wine. I had told her she was overdoing it. In typical Alice fashion, she had added a baguette to the mix just to spite me.

I saw that Charlie's wine glass from lunch had dripped a series of crimson drops across the linoleum floor. I grabbed a dish towel and scrubbed at the spots with my good hand. The red became streaks rather than drops, reminding me too much of similar streaks on a ballet studio floor. I rested my head against the cold fridge, suddenly dizzy. I breathed through my nose, clutching the tupperware of crepes to my chest, then I scrubbed until there was only a faint outline of dots on the floor.

"I'm okay," I whispered to myself, needing to believe it. I winced in pain as I flexed my bandaged hand too tightly against the plastic container.

_No, you're not_, the voice whispered in my head. James was happy at my distress.

"Bella?" Edward was crouching next to me, his voice eclipsing my fear. I let him take my other hand.

"I'm _fine_," I said, but my voice broke as I heard James's answer:

_Liar._


	8. May 26th, 3:20 am

__**AN: Okay, I promise, this is not a cop-out. This is a chapter written purely for dramatic effect. I'm experimenting with my format, again. I would like to know what everyone thinks. I'm working on the next chapter even as we speak! Er, even as we type...**

**Song: Hands in Plain Sight by Mark Isham .com/watch?v=gH8GCcdEow8&feature=related (from the movie 'Crash')**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em><strong>-May 26th, 3:20 am-<strong>_

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><p>I wasn't really awake, but I could catch glimpses of my environment.<p>

An explosion of pain-

Voices breaking out all around me-

Carlisle's amber eyes, so fierce in the darkness-

Screaming as icy hands grabbed at me, holding me still-Edward's heavenly voice reverberating through my mind-

Jacob's frantic shouts, which sounded more like snarls-

Reaching out, clutching Edward's hand in my own, keeping myself tethered to consciousness.

Something-or someone-tore Edward away from me. I remembered crying out in terror-

Then I lost my connection.

I couldn't remember anything else for a long time.


	9. Sixtytwo Hours Ago

-_**Sixty-two Hours Ago-**_

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><p>"Bella..."<p>

I heard a voice above me. My body curled up defensively on my bed. I _knew_ that there could be no other voice plaguing me, here in my own room. Immediately, my sleep-filled mind jumped to the image of dark red eyes, a cruel smile, and exlpoding mirrors-

"Bella, it's just me!" Edward said, catching my wrist as my hand swung back, ready to punch out at the nightmare awaiting me. I gasped as I felt his cold fingers against my skin.

"I'm sorry, Edward," I said, pulling out of his grip. "I had a bad dream, and I thought you were..."

Edward smiled, oblivious to my terror. "What?"

I tried to force my lips open, to tell him what had been bothering me; but, in the end, I chickened out. "I don't even know," I lied, flopping back onto my covers. "You know how dreams are; you can never remember them correctly."

"I haven't had a dream in a hundred years," Edward reminded me, lying down beside me.

My mouth twisted as visions from my nightmare returned: I had been trapped in my school gym with a coven of hostile vampires. I had made a break for the doors, only to get tackled and bitten by five ravenous pairs of fangs. "Consider yourself lucky."

"I do miss the good dreams. And, the bad dreams, too," Edward mused, unconsciously drawing me close to him. "It's something a human wouldn't understand, I guess."

"Oh, don't be so high-and-mighty," I said, with a genuine laugh. "After graduation, I'll have first-hand experience with all things vampire."

"Let's not talk about that," Edward said quickly, and effectively distracted my poor human heart with a kiss. One kiss turned into two, then five. When I took a moment to breathe, I knew that the clock on my nightstand could no longer be ignored.

"I have to get up," I sighed, disentangling myself from my statuesque boyfriend. Surprisingly, Edward wouldn't let me go. "Edward, seriously, I have to get up, or I'll be late for school."

"Just stay a minute longer," Edward said, pulling me back down.

I couldn't resist his molten amber eyes, or his voice-sexy at the least, and capable of turning to me into a quivering mass of gelatin at the most. "Two minutes," I said, with a scowl.

Edward put his nose to my hair and inhaled, giving a satisfied hum at my scent. I stayed still and tried not to act like a human jello mold. "I'm worried about you, Bella," Edward murmured against my hair. "Ever since you hurt your hand, you've seemed...strained. I wish you would let me help you."

"I'm fine," I said, too reflexively.

Edward caught my defensiveness; he brushed his hand along my palm to soothe me. "You aren't fine, but you keep insisting that you are. Did I do something to upset you?"

"No, no, Edward," I said, shaking my head, "it's not you, at all. But, it's also nothing you could help me fight."

"What do you mean?"

I couldn't explain it to him. How could I, when I didn't know what was wrong? I fought down my rising anxiety and gave Edward my best effort at a calm expression. "I think I'll get over it, if I just ignore it. I don't think talking about it is going to help."

Truthfully, I didn't think anything could help me. What could deliver me from nightmares and phantom voices in my head? Even drugs or therapy wouldn't cure me. That morning, lying beside the love of my life, I conceded defeat.

I was insane. That was the only solution to my problem. Because, I knew that, no matter what, James was dead. The evil vampire that had caused me hours of pain _had to be dead_. The Cullens had killed him. He could never touch me again.

The strange thing was: I didn't feel insane.

I smiled at Edward and rose from my bed, ready to start my day.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Oh, gosh. :p I would apologize for abandoning this story for so long, but...I must confess, I feel no remorse. XD You might find this hard to believe, but I really don't like this story. I'm forcing myself to finish it for the benefit of my attentive readers. Just know: my absence was due to final exams, writer's block, and discovering a lovely anime that has seriously addictive qualities (Kuroshitsuji for the win!). <strong>

**This chapter...hm. I like it. **

**That being said, here's the latest song for "In Memory": Louder than Thunder by The Devil Wears Prada**

**.com/watch?v=C0kNWGYhcsM&list=PL6176215AEEFB9B3E&index=15&feature=plpp_video**


	10. Forty Hours Ago

_**-Forty- Hours Ago-**_

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><p>I should have known that going insane would not be easy. But, somehow, I had thought that admitting my crookedness to myself would fix me. Of course, I was wrong.<p>

Knowing that I was crazy just made most things worse.

The knowledge had stuck with me like a bad cold as I had waded through the hall at school, as I had smiled at Angela Webber when she waved at me, as I had turned in a short report on the biodiversity of Arizona. It had caused me to hide out in the bathroom and let out great, heaving sobs as I heard the voice, over and over-

_What are you doing, Bella?_

"Go away," I had said unevenly, gasping for breath. My head had hurt, and my arm throbbed with pain. I had tugged my sleeve further down, hiding the spreading, silver marks from my eyesight.

_ You're being a little childish, aren't you? Is hiding out in the bathroom really going to do any good against me?_

"It's not you I'm worried about," I had told him.

"Bella?" I had heard a semi-familiar voice. "Is that you?"

Clutching my hands to my stomach, I didn't answer.

_Admit defeat, _James had whispered. _You know there isn't anything you can do to get away from me._

"Bella?" One of the nicer girls in the school-Jordan, I think-had knocked on my stall. "Are you in there? Are you all right?"

"Yes," I had said thickly, hoping she wouldn't notice that my feet weren't in the right place; I was slumped on the floor, not perched on the toilet seat.

"Okay," Jordan had said, and left with a hesitant shuffle of her high-top sneakers.

_See? _

"No, I don't," I had muttered, even though I knew he wasn't real.

_No one knows you're here, Bella, and no one can be bothered to come find you._

"I told Alice and Angela that I wasn't feeling well," I had said stubbornly, pressing the back of my head into the wall. I had closed my eyes against the ache that seemed to surround my head. I had realized that I was very thirsty, but I couldn't find the strength to get up.

"I have to get up," I had told myself firmly, "or Alice will see this, and she'll be worried. Then, she'll tell Edward-"

_Ah, Edward. And how is he doing, these days? _

"Go away!"

And, then, before I knew it, I had purposefully punched the wall behind me with my stitched hand. I had nearly screamed when I felt some skin on my fingers break. As I had pulled back my twice-injured hand, I had lifted my head to listen for that genteel, mocking voice, sure to take advantage of my weakened state.

I had heard nothing.

From that one instance, I had found a solution to my problem. So, I smashed my hand against the wall one more time, to test my theory. As my own blood beaded up along my knuckles, I had listened hard for that hated sound.

I had heard nothing, and had walked out of the bathroom with a bleeding fist and a relieved smile.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Yes, another anti-climatic chapter. I am a master at killing the suspense. <strong>

**I was actually going to write another chapter and post it, too, about an hour ago...But then I got a massive headache and had to stop. Now that I have revived somewhat, I might try to soldier on. **

**Song for this chapter: Moonlight Sonata by Ludwig van Beethoven .com/watch?v=7Qqib2eDweE&ob=av3n (I love this song; it's my favorite. This is why I try to fit it somewhere within all my chaptered fics.)**

**I hope you enjoyed!**


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